


Etch a Sketch

by StrangeMischief



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, much angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:28:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangeMischief/pseuds/StrangeMischief
Summary: After going to space, dying, coming back to life, and defeating a mad titan, all Stephen Strange wanted was peace.And then Tony Stark sent him a ‘thank you’ basket.





	Etch a Sketch

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt. As always, enjoy :3

_The Etch a Sketch_

 

 

The first time Stephen Strange noticed the inky mark on his collarbone was around the same time he finished medical school. He had thought it was nothing more than a smudge of ink; evidence of studying far into the night and falling asleep at his desk. And so, he ignored it.

 

A few days and several vigorous washings later and it was still there; a single blemish on his otherwise unscathed skin.

 

That was when he realized it was his soulmate. It was _their_ writing – if it could even be called that. The form was cramped and thin, the indistinguishable letters so tightly packed they looked more like a geometric pattern from an adult coloring book than words. A flare of annoyance shot through Stephen. What the hell was this? How was he was going to walk around with this mess stuck on his collarbone for the rest of his existence? Who the hell wrote their name like that? How did they ever expect Stephen to know who they were?

 

Stephen huffed and pulled out a scarf. Christine was going to have a field day over this.

 

\---

 

 

\---

 

The first time Tony Stark noticed his mark was one of the many mornings he woke up from a long, drunken night and immediately ran to shove his face in the toilet.  He had spent the better part of an hour hurling everything but his vital organs out of his mouth before feeling steady enough to take a long, _long_ shower.

 

Tony stood and peeled his sweat-stained tee from his body and tossed it aside. He strode past the mirror, pausing as a flash of black on the curve of his left ribcage. A signature. A name.  

 

“Who the hell…?” Tony trailed off, running his fingers over the black writing. It was blocky and filled with jagged, crossing lines. More than anything, it was entirely indiscernible. He thought he could pick out a ‘p’ and perhaps an ‘s,’ but the rest was a blur of intercrossing lines and squiggles.

 

“What a fucking mess,” Tony mumbled to himself, twisting his torso in hopes of catching a better look at the scrawl’s reflection in the mirror. “How am I ever supposed to find you?”

 

\---

 

 

\---

 

Tony watched Peter practically vibrate with excitement as he charged around the lab, gasping in awe and shooting off three questions a minute.  “Oh my god, Mr. Stark this is so cool! Why is this one so glowy? And what does that one do? This looks like a neaurospace transmitter! Is it a neurospace transmitter, Mr. Stark?!”

 

Tony laughed and pulled back his sleeves, ready to start flicking the equipment to life. “Guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we, Pete?”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“We’ll get to it, hold your horses-”

 

“No, not the machine – _that_.” Peter grabbed Tony’s right wrist and flipped it over to reveal a name.

 

Tony jerked his hand out of Peter’s grasp and brought it closer to his gaze. It was vastly different from the name on his side. Had Tony not spent so much time scrutinizing the first mark, he would have thought this second one was an entirely different person. But no, he recognized the diagonal slash, the three chunky sections of print, and the lazy curve of the ‘s’ towards the end of the name. It was the same person, but immensely different handwriting.

 

Worry prickled up Tony’s spine. Had something happened to them? Did they have a stroke? Had they suffered some sort of brain trauma? Were they okay? Did they need help?

 

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s concerned tone snapped Tony back to reality.

 

“Just a note to myself, kid,” Tony replied smoothly, answering Peter’s earlier question. “An idea I had for the suit.”

 

Peter’s eyes lit up at the mention of the Iron Man suit like a kid at Christmas. “Really? Are you going to work on it now? Could I help? Or watch? I can just watch!”

 

Tony smiled and swung an arm over Peter’s shoulder. “Kid, how would you like to reconfigure the defensive protocols?”

 

\---

 

 

 

\---

 

After going to space, dying, coming back to life, and defeating a mad titan, all Stephen Strange wanted was peace.

 

And then Tony Stark sent him a ‘thank you’ basket.

 

Thankfully, it wasn’t filled with fruit, or Stephen would have hurled it right at the delivery boys head. Instead, in place of bananas and pears, there were teas. Earl Grey and chamomile. Green and oolong. Near the top, edged between a box of herbal and yellow tea was a thick ivory envelope.

 

Stephen set the gift on the bottom step of the Sanctum’s large staircase and plucked the card from the basket. Once opened, two separate pieces of paper fell into his open palm.; a wedding invitation and a handwritten note. Stephen spared the first little attention, having already seen Wong’s invitation that came a few days prior. Rather, he focused on the note that was written on a what looked like a piece of legal pad paper.

 

_“Thanks for protecting my reality, douchebag,”_ Tony had jotted, followed by a scribble that must have been his name. A scribble Stephen saw almost every day but never had any hope of reading. A scribble that was etched onto his collarbone like a staked claim.

 

Tony Stark’s scribble.

 

\---

 

Stephen knew, and he still went to the wedding. He knew, and he still smiled and shook Tony’s hand at the reception. He knew, and he still tossed rice at the happy couple as they raced by to slip into a sleek limousine.

 

Stephen Strange knew he and Tony Stark were soulmates but shoved it aside. And, though he didn’t really know the man, he couldn’t fight back the twinge of hurt that stabbed at his constricting heart the entire wedding.

 

The sorcerer shook his head and ran a hand down his face and berated himself. What right did he have to feel upset? What right did he have to feel loss? Nothing had ever been his to lose.

 

\---

 

“Tony, look!”

 

Tony paused his post-honeymoon unpacking to glance up at Pepper, who was smiling and holding a small, cream-colored piece of cardstock in her hands. “From Mr. Wong and Mr. Strange.”

 

“ _Doctor_ Strange,” Tony teased with an air of superiority. Pepper snorted and threw the card at Tony before breezing out of the room.

 

Tony flipped the note over. The swirling handwriting offered their congratulations as well as flowery compliments on the ceremony. At the bottom were two signatures. The first matched the flowing script above and clearly read Wong’s name. The second was thick, blocky, and…familiar. Incredibly familiar.

 

Tony ripped up the sleeve of his button-down shirt and held his right wrist up next to the second signature. The pieces of the puzzle shifted, and suddenly everything became clearer, including the previously illegible writing that was twice pressed into Tony’s tanned skin.

 

_Dr. Stephen Strange._

 

\---

 

Tony knew. Stephen knew. They both knew, but it didn’t matter. It was too late. They shook the “what-ifs” from their minds, they covered the evidence of the ‘might have been’ that was etched on their skin, and they moved on.


End file.
